Free Long Night Moon (The Bradbury Institute Book 2) by Sonya Clark

bob came to a halt a few
feet from Eve. “You, you were in the ladies room at the coffee shop, weren’t
you? If you’re the one who wacked off my hair, you and I need to have a talk.”
    The woman ignored her. Her boss
said, “Do you have it?”
    “Yes.” She opened a canvas bag in
her hand and took out a pair of manacles made of some white material Eve could
not identify.
    “What’s that for?” Eve took another
step backward.
    “Psychometry is a fascinating gift,
Miss Kane.” He took the manacles and held them up to examine them. “I find
myself a bit envious. To me, this is nothing but cold bone, worn smooth by use
and made strong by magic. But to you - you
have the power to perceive the story this has to tell. To draw forth its very
memories. To experience things through the senses of someone who has been in
contact with it. Surely that would allow you to truly know a person.”
    “I never thought of it that way.”
She took another step back, colliding with Crantz. He gripped her shoulder,
fingers digging into her flesh painfully.
    “You say you don’t know Leoben.
This will allow you to know him. To see the darkest part of his soul.”
    Fear burned a path through her
nerves. “I don’t know this man Leoben. This is a mistake, please.”
    He lifted the manacles to her neck,
holding them inches from her body. With a jerk of his chin he signaled Crantz
to step away. “You will know him now, Eve.” He draped the manacles around her
like some sort of macabre necklace.
    Sensation slammed into Eve.
Unbearable pain, sickening fear, the roar of constant screaming. Knees being
dragged across a stone floor, leaving a trail of blood through holes in the
pants. Being dumped against a wall, half-conscious. A shimmer of familiar magic
that tasted of wildness on a star-filled winter night.
    Eve screamed as she dropped to the
floor. “Pete!”

Chapter 10
     
    After the baroque phantasm of the Castle
of Midnight it was quite a surprise to find myself traveling rough country
roads that reminded me so much of home. Like waking from a dream that made no
sense, to once again be surrounded by the comforts of the mundane. We made our
way through the Land of Snows, southeast to the Sea of Nectar. The beautiful
Morrigan herself had given us a white horse to carry our supplies and
belongings. At first I believed my experience in the Alps would put me in good
stead to take on the cold, the wind and the snow, but I could not have been
more wrong. I have no doubt I would have perished in that frigid snow-covered
country if I had not my two companions and the supplies so generously given me
by the Morrigan and her courtiers. A long heavy coat of thick black fur kept me
protected from the cold and wind. My companions were more than generous with
their ability to create a warming fire out of only their will to have it so.
    *
    Called simply “The Carrig,” the village
was a crossroads of sorts, hosting Sidhe from both Winter and Spring. I say
“host” rather than “home” because of its rather odd flavor of seeming to be a
village of semi-permanent structures for a transient population. Having just
completed an engagement as a musician at one of the High Courts, it seemed just
as natural to Dougal to find himself here in this port town of tumble-down inns
and decadent brothels. The denizens of those inns and brothels were certainly
just as happy to enjoy his talents as the courtiers. McRary as well had no
trouble securing a term of employment as seanachai at one of the finer
establishments. Musicians and storytellers are greatly prized by all Sidhe,
respected as venerable members of their society. As I learned from observing
Dougal and McRary’s own ease with both noble courtiers and indecorous sailors,
the singular role of musicians and seanachai in Sidhe society allowed them to
move amongst all classes with equal facility. The divisions of class in
England, the caste system in India – there is no such thing among the Sidhe.